I Should Be Over You
by AshenCaspia
Summary: They used to be best friends, when he stopped talking to her. She knows that she needs to stop, to act like it doesn't bother her, but each attempt just hurts her more inside. But it's changed. This time, she, Maximum Ride, is determined to get over him. Even if he, Fang Roche, finally wants her back.
1. Chapter 1

**Hola, Rory here~ This is my first chapter. Of my first story.**

**OHMYGOODNESS, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT? ISN'T THAT JUST PLAIN AMAZING? Actually, don't do anything about what I just said. It's actually not amazing, it's pathetic. :P**

**Anyway, first chapter, first story, blah blah blah. I'm just excited to post something after creepily browsing FanFiction for 2 years anonymously, and to make a real account! WHAZAM.**

**Disclaimer: I am not an aging man named James. In fact, I believe my name is Rory... So, CLEARLY, I don't own Maximum Ride. Yeah.**

* * *

We used to be friends, but that doesn't matter.

I still miss him.

That doesn't matter either.

Or, rather, it never will.

It's been ages since the last time we talked, and ages _more _that we acknowledged each other. Of course, we see each other at school in the halls or in the same class, but never once do we talk. We don't even act like the other is there.

We need to act, though. For some reason, there's a grudge that he - Fang - has been holding for two years, and he can't get over it. But there's a reason that I can't accept it and believe that we won't ever talk again: I don't even know what I did to cause everything to shatter.

Given the fact that this is the most dramatic story a fifteen year old girl could possibly possess, it's even more excruciating to learn bits and pieces behind my back, where people talk about me. The whispers are of contempt and irritation, and the little shoves and kicks directed at me are also a sign.

It's as if I committed a crime so despicable that a scarlet A would be the perfect thing to put onto my shirt. A for what, though, I don't know. There's not much thought going around lately.

I sigh, running a hand through my unkept hair. Usually I would have kept it cleaner, but recently, it feels like nothing is right anymore. The girls at school are bullying me because of the mystery thing I've done to Fang, my mother is sick with a cold, and I can barely think correctly without feeling as if I'm suffocating.

The lack of breath completely drains when I see him. My feet stop moving, and I stare at him, all of his features. His eyes, the color of brewed coffee; his skin, olive toned with the scars that I know are on his stomach, on his wrists... I need to memorize all of this, because it feels like it will be forever when I am able to see it all again.

Fang walks past me, still talking to his friend, and after he passes I turn to look at him again. The current of the school hallways are pushing me forward, but my feet don't move, and I can only see his shoulders shaking in silent laughter at a joke that his friend makes.

He didn't stop, didn't look at me. For him, he doesn't need to act like I don't exist.

To him, I'm already gone. I might as well act like it, but it seems like I'm holding on to that last strand of hope. I need to be strong and become the real me again, the real Max.

I turn, walk down the hall to my next class, and sit at my desk with a new confidence.

But if that's the case, then why does my heart hurt so much?

* * *

**Okay. Okay. That's it, for now. I'm planning on making this story ABSOLUTELY FABULOUS (Please read that in a valley girl accent)! **

**Also, question for you people who will or will not review...OTL. "What is your favorite Fanfic?" It doesn't have to be for Maximum Ride, it can be ANYTHING. **

**Mine is "Harry's New Home" by kbinnz. FREAKING READ IT. I've read it like four times. XD. **

**-The overly ecstatic Rory**


	2. Chapter 2

**I can't believe I didn't clarify this... Yes, my name is Rory, but I'm a girl! D: Dudee... Seriously? **

**Anyway, thank you for the reviews! I mean, 9? Are you KIDDING? You've made my day. All 9 of you.**

**Disclaimer: This just depresses me, okay? I'm not James Patterson, so I don't own Maximum Ride. If I DID, I think Dylan would die within the first chapter of him being introduced. Heh.**

* * *

The bell for the end of the day rings, and a burst of adrenaline runs through me.

Although it's really pathetic, I'm excited. Throughout the entire period I'd been talking myself through getting over Fang, and it wasn't easy. Even as I pick up the jumbled mess of papers and folders into my hands, an annoying voice in my head tells me not to forget about him. Not to mourn.

I've tried ignoring it, but it has long since left my head and is dancing in front of my eyes, warning me that this is not the solution. Clinging to the strand of hope out of desperation is the brightest idea to the voice.

There hasn't been a time where I've been so irritated by myself.

When I'm out in the hallway, my confidence is so erratic and uncontrolled that I find myself looking for Fang, just to prove that I won't stop and stare like usual.

I find him with a brooding expression on his usual placid face, briskly walking to his locker on the opposite side of the hall from mine. My breath catches in my throat when he walks closer, and I command my feet to work. I pass him nonchalantly, looking almost bored. I don't stop walking all the way to my locker, and only then do I look back.

He's not there anymore. Of course. It's only idiotic to think that a change for me would mean something to him now. It doesn't matter.

Obviously.

I sigh, putting my books back into my locker. It's only just occurred to me that Fang was my only friend, and that I need to become someone _different _now. How to do that, I'm not quite sure yet. But I'll have to find a way.

* * *

The next morning, I ditch the skirts that I usually wear and find something unlike my usual attire. Black skinny jeans, graphic tee, and a pair of Converse; things that I definitely wouldn't wear. Well, things the old me wouldn't do.

I leave my hair down, instead of the complicated hairstyles it usually stays in. Without the typical braid, my blonde streaked hair reaches down to my waist in waves.

Now, if anyone talks to me, the only thing I'll have to do is make sure my personality is completely different, too. That one is going to come from improvisation.

When I get to school, I avoid everyone in the hallways like usual, but this time I don't cower from the mass of students in the halls. I keep my head up, and find myself smirking at the students who can't recognize me.

School progresses slowly, almost sluggishly, and the students are still baffled at the sight of me in such simple clothing. I'm not pretty, though, there would be nothing to change that. So why should I try? Trying too hard got me friendless.

At lunch, I sit at the uninhabited table I usually reside at, when two people sit across from me.

"Hello," says the first, a blonde with strawberry blonde hair. He has a thick, white scar against the right side of his face.

"Why are you sitting alone?" the second asks, his blue eyes shining with innocence.

The two open their lunches but don't actually eat anything. Their eyes are trained on me, both a piercing blue, and I open and close my mouth several times, trying to get a sound out.

"Max," I say, almost sighing at how I haven't changed. But these are the first people to talk to me all year. "I'm Maximum Ride."

At the sound of my full name, the one with wide, innocent blue eyes laughs. The strawberry blonde throws in a chuckle.

"Do you give the 'Maximum Ride', then?" the strawberry blonde asks, and then the two let out another guffaw. I'd think they were making fun of me if they didn't seem so immature.

After their laughs die down, the strawberry blonde extends out a hand. "I'm Iggy, so I can't really laugh at your name. Iggy Burns." Iggy points a long finger out to the other boy. "That's my brother, The Gasman. Don't ask."

"The Gasman" grins and then takes a bite out of his lunch, which mainly consists of junk food. Through a mouthful of animal crackers, he says, "But you can call me Gazzy."

We talk amiably for the rest of the period, and I find that having friends is a good change from the past two years of solitude. I'm just happy that there are people willing to talk to me.

During our conversations, a nagging feeling kept tugging at me to turn around, but each time I did so, there was nothing there.

The nauseating feeling returns, and I turn around quickly to find _his _eyes on me, his dark eyes that look at me with intensity. Although there isn't any sort of emotion in his eyes, I can tell what he's thinking just by staring at him.

What _Fang's _thinking.

And he's filled with regret.

Somehow, I can't help but smirk.

* * *

**Blahhh. What do you think? Thoughts, opinions, criticism? I'm open to all.**

**Rory**


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